Knave
by thatswhyyyoudont
Summary: Slash, Hatter x Stayne. Years before the Frabjous Day, the Hatter is captured by the Red Queen.
1. Chapter 1

A year into the Red Queen's rule, she captured the Hatter. Or rather, her cards had. Her sister had had a Hatter, so _she_ wanted one. Surrounded by her subjects, and in view of the cards and the Hatter himself, she was trying on a hat he had been forced to make her. There was a tense pause. The cards awaited instructions, everyone else awaited the Queens's reaction, wondering if the unstable man would be allowed to keep his head.

Then she shrieked with an almost painful intensity, "I adore it!"

Some, including the Hatter, winced and rubbed their ears. The Knave looked past them all to the Queen, who was whirling before the mirror with delight. The hat was rather good; made with velvet and silk and edged with lace, bold, like her personality, and elegant, not quite like her personality, and not too garish. If it were not placed on such an abnormally sized head, it would be rather flattering.

Some of the less timid subjects came forward, flattering and fawning upon her. Stayne had to admit, she looked to be in one of the most agreeable moods that he had ever seen her in. With the fuss over her, none of them had the sense to keep an eye on the Hatter, unbound as he was. The knave had been keeping him in the corner of his eye, and now turned his full attention upon him. The Hatter stood with a half smile upon his face, looking from the Queen to the other hats, fingers twitching madly at his sides. Stayne didn't trust madness, and watched him like a hawk for any such signs.

"What of the other hats, your Majesty?" A subject called.

"Burn them," she called back cheerfully, "I have no need for any but this and my crown!"

The Hatter looked as if he'd been struck in the face. He looked from one hat to the other as the cards began to gather them up, digging his fingernails into his palms with agitation. Staybe tensed ever so slightly in his chair, ready to restrain him at any moment, but the Hatter only stared, crestfallen, as they were taken away.

"A ball," the Queen declared with no preamble, startling both of them. When no one spoke, Stayne eventually clarified,

"A ball, sweet?"

"Yes, a ball in honour of my hat, and the Hatter shall hat everybody here, and it shall be a hat ball!" She was getting more excited by the minute. Her subjects began to murmur timid enthusiasm, and the Hatter was smiling his half smile again, figuring out, doubtless, that he was going to kept alive for the foreseeable future, if only as the Queen's pet. He said nothing. Stayne, however, was inwardly cursing. He hated such events.

"Cards," she called now, gesturing to the Hatter. "Take him to his room, and make sure he has whatever he requires!"

The Knave shook his head with bemusement as the Hatter was taken away. At least something different was happening, for once, to ease the poison of his steadfast routine.

The cards, and everyone, for that matter, knew the extent of Stayne's desire to avoid the Queen, and so no one found it strange that he insisted on the duty of taking the Hatter's food to him. The task was at first mostly uninteresting. The Hatter never addressed him when he entered his cell slash room to set a tray down on the table. He would occasionally murmur a thank you depending, Stayne supposed, on his mood.

Growing accustomed to the Hatter's habits, Stayne learnt that he would spend on average two hours on each person. He did work remarkably fast. Stayne also noticed that he didn't use the rich materials he had used on the Queen's hat, or make anywhere near as many per person; he may be mad, but he certainly wasn't stupid.

The Hatter began to fascinate him. He worked like a devil, seemingly never out of ideas, and when the Knave brought him his last meal of the day, he sometimes noticed him caressing his white fingers, as if they were stiff and sore and overworked. He had also made a game out of guessing whose head the Hatter was currently working on, as he worked in no particular order. A long, steeped top hat for the lady with the ridiculous nose, for instance, an almost cushioned, flowery affair that was almost tacky for the lady he dubbed "Busty"... Some were apt and obvious, and some were a clever surprise that made perfect sense once placed upon the appointed person's head.

As the Queen became more and more delighted with the Hatter's successes, his privileges increased; he was now allowed to dine with them once a day, and granted short breaks in which he could wander the (locked) gardens, or do whatever struck his fancy. He hadn't been stupid enough to attempt to escape yet, and frankly, Stayne didn't see why he should; he had a good room and private bathroom, and was treated well so long as he did what he was told. It surely beat the ruin he had been living in, stuck in time with no home or occupation. Stayne thought he could be happy here himself if only the Queen would leave him be. The subjects were dull, uninspiring, awful, but that was nothing...he could certainly be content, he was sure.

Taking the Hatter's lunch to him one day, he eyed the current hat in the making as was his custom, and paused in his tracks. That hat was smart, handsomely shaped, black and not as flimsy ad some of the others. He set the tray down beside the Hatter and watched him for a while. The Hatter paused occasionally for a bite to eat, taking care not to damage his work, but otherwise didn't stop. His eyes were vague, distant, even as he ate.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Stayne stepped forward for a better look.

"You're in my light," the Hatter said instantly.

Stayne stepped back, irritated.

The Hatter looked up at him then, properly, as if considering him. He turned his attention back to the hat and held it up to the light, glancing at Stayne sidelong. "You can try it on now if you like."

Stayne reached out to take it. He looked it over for a moment, before turning to the mirror and fitting it on his head. He hadn't cared for this hat craze, as he didn't for many aesthetic things, but this was rather good. If it weren't for his damaged eye, he could almost look rather dashing. He liked that it half hid him and made him look rather dignified, and wasn't flimsy enough to fall off in combat or on horseback. He realised the Hatter was looking at him and waiting for a reaction.

"I like it," he said, honestly enough, and the Hatter smiled. He turned back to his machine and began to clear the thread, still smiling and clearly not expecting anymore. Stayne lingered over his reflection. "You needn't make me any more. This one is perfect."

"Oh, I think I'd better, don't you? You know what she's like.",

It took a moment for the slight at the Queen to register. He turned to face the Hatter, but he was already ostentatiously at work at another hat, instantly absorbed. Stayne took the hat from his head reluctantly and set it on the table. He watched the Hatter a little longer before leaving him.

Sat at the dinner table, it was hard for Stayne to focus on what the Queen was saying. He had been bored, hot and restless all day, but hopefully a quenched appetite would help him feel better. He listened to the conversation around him; the others hadn't taken to the Hatter at all, despite a genuine fondness for their hats. His looks and quiet, agitated manner scared them, and so they never spoke to him, only about him. They silenced abruptly just then. Stayne looked up, and sure enough the Hatter had come through the door, and glided to the table. They had not known to set a place for him when he first arrived, and so then and since just sat wherever he felt like, with probably no harm intended. However, it caused a lot of tension in the small minded idiots who had been in the same seats for years.

Stayne himself was unperturbed when the Hatter took the spare seat next to him without a word, seemingly without a thought. In fact, he was rather pleased. He couldn't help paying attention to the other man when he was so different, so refreshing. There was nothing unhealthy in a little male interest, not when it was just looking. The Hatter had sat on the Knave's good side, that is, in view of his good eye, and so he could see him begin to play with a napkin in his lap. It was barely noticeable and the others paid him no heed, but the Queen bellowed, "Stop that fidgeting!"

The whole table silenced abruptly. The Hatter was staring at her as if he couldn't imagine how anyone could be so rude. The silence dragged on, and it took the Hatter a long beat to realise why.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The Queen looked at him for a minute before turning her attention to the kitchen door. "Where is dinner?"

They had clearly paused in the proceedings after hearing her bellow; they were trembling when they emerged with the plates of food. People tentatively resumed their conversations.

He noticed the Hatter was looking at the Queen and twitching his fingers at his sides, eyes flame-ringed and jaw tight. Stayne tightened his jaw himself, poised to strike. But then the Hatter saw him looking and blinked, eyes immediately turning softer. He turned his attention to his food and began to eat. He ate slowly and didn't look up again until the Queen spoke. Everyone stopped talking and eating, quickly swallowing their remaining mouthfuls. The Hatter was still getting used to things, and put down his knife and fork a beat later than everyone else.

"The ball," the Queen was saying brightly, "will be marvellous. And you," she said, directing her beam-like gaze at the Hatter, "will finish on time, correct?"

He began to nod, then said, "yes," sending a flutter of relief down the table. He had forgotten to address her correctly again, but she was too absorbed in her plans to notice. She blathered on happily, while the Hatter's blush from the attention gradually went down. Stayne noticed he didn't eat much.

He found himself watching the Hatter again when he next took his food to him. He took his time setting the tray down and had a glance around the room, making sure the Hatter hadn't improvised any weapons or such out of his many needles. He watched the Hatter, who like last time seemed too absorbed to notice. He didn't flinch when the Knave approached his chair.

"She wants you finished by tomorrow," he said softly.

The Hatter nodded vaguely. Stayne wondered if he even had a good grasp of time.

With a sigh, he let one hand drop to cover the Hatter's, the one resting on the table unoccupied. He began to rub lazy, rhythmic circles into it with his thumb. The Hatter didn't move. He had been somewhat hunched up in concentration, but now eased his posture and relaxed. He continued to work with one hand, the other unmoving under Stayne's. His skin was as soft and smooth as a girl's, even the undersides of his fingers.

He thought the Hatter would have let him stay there all day, and work one handed, when he heard the cards approaching from the corridor. They were probably just passing, but it had ruined the moment. He took his hand away and just leaned on the chair, watching him, looking as if he could be merely bullying him. The Hatter put his freed hand back to the thread as if nothing had happened, barely skipping a beat. He hadn't looked up once. After a while he began to hum, and it annoyed Stayne. He left.

* * *

If anyone's interested in being a beta for this fic, please PM me


	2. Chapter 2

Soon, the hatter had finished and the eve of the ball was upon them. Stayne's personal favourite had been deemed acceptable by the Queen, and everyone did look rather good. The Hatter wore his usual hat with a beautiful suit Stayne had never seen before. He wondered if he had made it. He didn't dance or talk to anyone, but the Queen had forced him to attend. He looked rather bored.

"Stayne," the Queen summoned him. "You must practise your dancing whilst I mingle. You are such a terrible dancer."

"Yes," he managed through gritted teeth. On well, it wasn't so bad.

"No," she boomed suddenly, seeing his eye fall on the ladies. "Not them," she hissed.

He murmured acquiescence as she looked all around the room. Their eyes landed on the Hatter at the same time, sitting alone on the steps and fiddling with a handkerchief.

"Him."

The Hatter looked up, startled, eyes darting between her and the Knave. He seemed to work out what was going on.

Stayne fought to keep a neutral expression as he kissed the Queen's hand obediently. He kept it as he strode towards the Hatter, ignoring his wide eyed look as he hauled him to his feet and pulled him into the dancers. They reached for each other's waists at the same time, and the Knave glared. Submitting, the Hatter meekly moved his hand to Stayne's shoulder. Stayne took hold of one of those smooth, smooth hands, and led him in a waltz.

The Hatter relaxed into his previous dreamy state, and stared at something over Stayne's shoulder while they danced, seemingly miles away. At first, it tempted Stayne to shake him, but he got used to it. He didn't like this public gesture with the Hatter, just in case it hinted to what he was thinking about him in private. The few times he caught the Queens's eye, her responding glare told him he needn't even think about stopping.

"How long do these things normally go on for?" The Hatter murmured. It was unclear whether he meant this particular dance or the ball itself.

"It depends. Until she's tired."

"Oh," he looked disappointed.

It irritated him. "That scary, am I?" He hadn't expected anger in response.

The Hatter's eyes flashed with it. Not mercury poisoned anger, but anger all the same. "You're not scary." Their step slowed. He muttered something else that Stayne didn't catch and didn't care to ask him to repeat, and looked quietly furious afterwards. His eyes or accent hadn't turned, the usual warning signs, but the change in character was still unnerving. Stayne tried to ignore it.

When he was calm, The Hatter was quite a nice dancer, in that dreamy, absent way of his, light on his feet and under Stayne's hand as if he wasn't really thinking about it. It was grating to have him this close and yet strictly off bounds. He wished he'd been able to finish his glass of wine. His trousers were getting uncomfortably tight. He couldn't help it.ô The queen had put him in this position, and he hadn't been close to someone he was attracted to for so long. And he may be a man, but he was as soft and sweet and vulnerable as a girl.

The Hatter broke away suddenly, interrupting his thoughts, saying something about the bathroom. His voice was soft and calm again. Stayne watched him leave, almost relieved. He wondered if he'd been holding him too tight, or looking at him strangely. No matter. At least he could finally have some more wine.

He polished off a glass and was well into a second when the Hatter returned. He offered him and glass, and he shook his head. The Queen looked over at them then, and Stayne downed his glass rather quickly and led the Hatter back through the dancers. He was still hard and uncomfortable.

"Have you ever considered," the Hatter said suddenly. "Spiking her drink with some sort of draught? Not to kill her," he added hastily. "Just to, you know, tire her out."

"No," he said. "It would be difficult. You don't know who you can trust here." Still. The idea put a smile on his face. Perhaps it was the wine.

The Hatter looked from the faces around them. He opened his mouth to speak, when the Queens voice overrode him.

"Stayne."

He turned, and found her standing there expectantly. He let go of the Hatter reluctantly, and took her hand.

The evenings end finally rolled around, and before the Queen could realise it, Stayne left her side and escorted the Hatter to his room. The murmuring and clinking glasses grew fainter as they mounted the stairs.

He no longer looked annoyed. They stood in silence for a moment.

"I'm not curtsying," he warned, in so serious a tone that it was almost funny.

The knave smiled thinly, and the Hatter was smirking, not grinning or smiling in his usual hapless way but smirking, as if he knew what it all meant. Stayne growled in his throat, kicked the door shut and pushed the Hatter against it. He held him by his shoulders and kissed him, and the Hatter accepted his mouth with his tongue, hands coming up to clutch at the front of his clothes. They broke apart for air, and the Hatter looked almost fearful. It excited the knave almost painfully. Their lips met again, the Hatter mewling into his mouth and sucking on his tongue gently. Stayne pressed his forehead to the Hatter's with his eye closed, and just breathed. His hand slid from the Hatters hair to caress his cheekbone with his thumb.

"I must go."

He felt him nod. There was nothing more to say. He lifted the Hatters hand to his lips and kissed it before leaving him.

He had taken to wandering at night, finding a new view here that he'd never remarked upon before and a reading nook there, until sleep would come. He was occupied thus one night, and stumbled upon the Hatter similarly engaged.

"What are you doing?" He said at once, alarmed. Perhaps this was the escape he had been anticipating, though he had to admit it didn't seem likely; the Hatter was barefoot. He looked plaintive.

"I'm hungry."

He didn't complain when Stayne followed him to the kitchen, making sure of his intentions. He stopped before the pantry without turning back, and asked Stayne timidly, "what can I have?"

"Whatever you like," he said, leaning against the wall. They had enough of everything to last months.

The Hatter sat on the counter and ate in silence, absent mindedly offering the knave a cookie. Stayne stared at the floor meditatively, to keep himself from watching the Hatter eat. -

Things went on as they had been, still seeing him at meal times and accompanying g him on walks.

It wasn't often that Stayne was presented with an opportunity to satisfy his urges. A fumble in the wine cellar, the woods, with a discreet subject was all he could really get. He tended to develop attachments quickly and with intensity, putting everything he had left into it and then breaking off just as quickly, satisfied in brief.

He supposed this infatuation was the same, except that the Hatter wasn't some silly slut. He was deviously clever, sharp, dangerous, fascinating, delicious, the queens new plaything, vulnerable, and of course, quite, quite mad. He was the least likely to have chosen, and the Knave wanted him like burning.

He took the Hatter for walks, for fresh air, and although they wouldn't talk, the knave had come to look forward to their walks. Having tea.

The gods must still like him, because an opportunity like no other presented itself a few weeks later.

"I would like," the Queen announced to Stayne in their private sitting room,"a horseback holiday." She beamed at Stayne, delighted with her idea.

Stayne was smiling himself. A holiday. From the Queen. He thought fast.

"That sounds wonderful, majesty. Only i will need to stay here, of course, to oversee everything, and keep an eye on the Hatter."

Her smile faded. "The cards can do that."

He knelt by her imploringly. "But your majesty, I don't know if they will be enough to take responsibility for your home, without leadership. People may get word of the castle being vacated by you, and even if they don't, the Hatter is terribly sly..." He trailed off meaningfully. He had plenty of other arguments up his sleeve and was prepared to fight harder. "It may also be nice for you to have a holiday just with your lady friends, to have a..nice, girly time?"

There was a long beat, and Stayne held his breath. And then she smiled, and he felt weak with relief.

"Wonderful! I shall tell them right away."

The wait for the moment they were to set off seemed endless, impatient. He leaned against th door and closed his eyes when they had left. No Queen, no insipid subjects, just the cards and animals and other underlings who would just leave him alone. And the Hatter, of course.

Stayne enjoyed his freedom for the first few hours by riding for the sheer pleasure of it, rather than to complete his duties, before going to find the Hatter. He was momentarily alarmed, after not finding him in his room or the gardens, but he remained calm.

He smiled with relief, and then with genuine affection, when he found the Hatter in the seldom used library, reading on cushions on the floor with his feet propped on a chair. He jumped on Stayne's entrance, and sat up guiltily, as now was normally his working time; clearly Stayne wasn't the only one decided to himself a holiday.

"I finished 8 hats today," he said nervously, by way of explanation.

Stayne was still smiling. His shut the door behind him. "Good." He knelt before the Hatter and pushed him back down on his back, squashing the book between them. Stayne felt it be pushed aside as he kissed the Hatter. The Hatter wriggled beneath him until his legs were free, opening them below Stayne. Stayne seized on the opportunity to press into him, releasing his lips and mouthing at his throat. His hands wandered restlessly from the hatters front to his collar to his sleeves, hunting restlessly for skin and teasing with the idea of undressing him.

"Not here,"he murmured, almost to himself, although he wanted nothing more than to take him here amongst the dusty old books on power and prosperity where no one ever came, to cover his back his carpet burns and get dust and the smell of age in his hair.

The Hatter had sank a little beneath him, as if with disappointment.

"I only came across this room a few weeks ago," he murmured, playing with the Knave's collar in an innocent yet maddening manner. "I peeked in a few times when I was wandering around, and it was always empty. So now I come here." His eyes fastened on Stayne's then, suddenly serious. "How long is she gone for?"

"A few days. I've asked them to send me warning when they start heading back, but..." He raised and lowered one shoulder to indicate the difficulties of this.

The Hatter nodded absently, seeming to drift off as he thought on this. He still played with Stayne's collar. All of a sudden, he began to laugh.

"What," Stayne asked, startled.

"The men are still here, aren't they?" He tittered. "We'll all have to actually make conversation over dinner."


End file.
